


The Well of Fate

by Cannibalized_Society



Category: Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Dark Magic, F/M, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki's Kids, Multi, Ragnarok, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Screw Destiny
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-16
Updated: 2014-05-16
Packaged: 2018-01-25 00:55:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1623179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cannibalized_Society/pseuds/Cannibalized_Society
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All of his life Loki has lived with the destiny of Ragnarok looming over him.  He's lost lovers. He's lost children. When it seems that everything has fallen apart Loki sets out to find out the terms of his destiny for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Well of Fate

**Author's Note:**

> The characters here are purely fictional and any resemblance to a person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. I don't make any money from my writing (boo), as most of the thoughts in my head are simply headcanon of established characters. There are no active pairings as of yet, but stick around...there's more.

The pathway to the Well of fate, deep among the very roots of Yggdrasil was paved with stones that unless tread by a Norn witch or Asgardian King would cause madness. The Norns constructed it this way to prevent the uninitiated from tampering with the Waters. Hallucinations and false prophecies would fill the mind of the walker, distracting them and turning from their purpose to find the waters of destiny. Some would find their way to the roots of Yggdrasil only to fall dead with relief. Others would rip out their own eyes to stop the fearsome illusions that crowded their minds. There was one to whom madness was an old friend. He'd walked many futures along this path, some that led to death and fear and others that led to peace and love. He found the latter to be that which hurt most. He longed for the peace he saw there, but he'd known too much of the world as it was to be fooled by what his heart desired. He saw that longing as a weakness that would kill him someday...but not yet.

Loki, Son of Laufey and rightful heir of Jotunheim, walked the paths in nothing more than a tunic and trousers. He had no weapons, as he could not have trusted himself to resist turning them upon himself. He had no armor. There was no armor against his own mind. He shuddered as more visions clogged his mind. He saw himself in a field of long green grass that was as soft as velvet. He had his beloved wife Angrboða at his side, her head leaned on his shoulder as they gazed out at the world beyond them. His children were young again, their innocence intact. Hela smiled as she braided flowers into Sleipnir's black mane while the stallion reclined peacefully. Jormungandr was wrapped around Fenrir, hissing playfully as the wolf cub happily struggled to escape him. This was home. This was what he'd dreamed of all his life. He would collapse happily into that grass, listening to laughter forever, if he could. He heard a soft voice at his side and saw Sigyn walking toward them, holding the hands of two dark haired identical boys. Narfi and Nari.

He blinked. No, that wasn't right. Angrboða never met the twins. He turned his head suddenly and Angrboða was gone. He gasped, looking up at the fields. The children were there but older now. Jormungandr, unlike his brothers, had taken an Aesir shape. He was tall and handsome, long platinum blonde hair and piercing blue eyes that stared directly at him, unforgiving. Hela was a woman now with a long fall of dark hair to cover the corpse-like side of her face while the other half of her face was lovely despite the sad line of her mouth. She sat with her lap full of withered flowers, her hand idly petting Fenrir's large grizzled head. He laid at Hela's side, now a wolf of equal size to match Sleipnir who stood far from them all, wearing Odin's saddle and bridle stoically. There were no smiles. The sun was covered by thick clouds. The grass was brown and brittle.

Loki stood up, his breath shuddering out of him. His children were suffering, the land was dying. He had to do something. He turned to look at Sigyn and she was gone. When he looked back at the field, the sky was nearly black and his older children were gone now too. All that remained were the two boys at his side who looked up at him, their faces suddenly pale with fear. There was a roll of thunder across the field that vibrated through his chest and he stared down at the children. Narfi's eyes met his, large tears went down his flushed cheeks as he softly whispered, "Papa...why?" Thunder rolled over him again and suddenly Narfi was a wolf, his gentle voice now an awful bloodthirsty snarl.

"NO!" Loki screamed, falling against a stone wall. His face was wet and ached as he shuddered, clutching the stone so hard that his fingers bled. "No..." He whispered, focusing on the path. _Not much further,_ he thought, and began to shuffle slowly forward. The vision of Narfi had asked the question that Loki had clung to as he walked these depths. "Why?" He growled softly to himself. He had to know why. Why was he the one destined to bring upon Ragnarok? Why was his family fated to suffer for nothing other than the fact that he was Loki? Was there a past life? Had he done something wrong to offend the Fates? He would give his own life if that meant the awful tether of Ragnarok could be lifted from his children. He would die to see them safe and happy...just once.

Other men could see their children grow. They could teach them...soothe them of nightmares...guard them from danger. Others could stand beside their sons as they became men...watch them struggle as they chose whom they would wed...hold their daughter's hand before releasing her to the one she loved. Other men would know the weight and pride of holding a grandchild in their hands. They knew what it was to love and live with someone...then wait for that love to come back to them in the next life.

Anger flooded him. That was how it was supposed to be, dammit! Why was he fated to watch everything he loved suffer and die? Why?

"WHY!?" He snarled as he stepped into the open chamber at the end of the path. His face was pale, streaked with tears, and his hands bled from where he'd dug his nails into his palms. In front of him were the Norn witches, their faces hidden by the hoods they wore but he knew they saw him. He shuddered, his teeth clattering with the force of his fury. New tears streaked down his face as he softly choked, "Why?"

There was a long silence before one of the Norn witches stepped forward, bravely walking toward him. He shook his head, his face going tight with pain and anger as she reached her hand toward him. When she touched the top his head, he broke. He collapsed to his knees, arms reaching out to curl around her legs. She didn't fight him, her hand gently petting the top of his head as he fought down sobs by gritting his teeth tight enough to hurt. "Sweet child." She whispered softly in a voice like wind. "How you suffer...we saw you walking the path...we know the question in your heart. But to know truth is to be burdened with purpose. You already carry a heavy burden, child. Go back, lest you lose yourself."

His eyes snapped open and he looked up at her with lost, childlike green eyes. She offered him a choice. He could continue, he could suffer all that he had endured and whatever was meant for him...or he could learn the truth and face a different destiny altogether. "Purpose...?" He said quietly, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Yes. Learning the truth would give you a far more important role in the future. That's why you are here." She whispered softly, her hands never stopping their gentle soothing over his scalp.

He shuddered again and swallowed. "What role?" He whispered. "I only want to live the same as anyone else." His lips turned down in a bitter frown and he looked up, anger filling him once again. "What purpose could I possibly have?" He spat, moving to pull away.

The Norn's hands went still on his head and he found himself locked in the kneeling position in front of her, her hands holding him still as she leaned down to him and whispered in his ear. "Justice."

The word went through him like a shock of cold water on fevered flesh. All the anger drained from him. He'd made his choice before she'd even said the word, and she knew as much. She'd offered him truth. To one so comfortable and familiar with lies it was like a healing balm. He felt something like steel coat him, felt his heart go still and calm. **_YES_**. His mind boomed the word, his entire being sharpened like a knife. "Yes." He said resolutely and she nodded, moving slowly back from him. He stood as she stepped away, moving to follow her as she walked toward the Well.

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that this is not a close adherence to Norse mythology. I have read and allowed it to inspire several concepts (still in works).
> 
> Comments and questions are welcome.


End file.
